Kilted Apologies
by ALC Punk
Summary: Pete Wisdom loves Kitty. What will he do to get her back?


Disclaimer: I do not own Romany, Pete, Kitty, or Sam. Marvel does, and they're really not being smart with them. Although I think they've forgotten Romany.  
This fic is PG13, for some swearing and a bit of innuendo.  
  
It is dedicated to Jim Smith, who inspired it. Happy now? Although he is NOT going around saying "I'm dead sexy."  
  
Kilted Apologies  
by Ana Lyssie Cotton  
  
"I can't b'lieve I'm bloody doin' this."  
  
"Shush and behave, brother mine."  
  
"I want a fag."  
  
"Well, you can't have one until we're on the ground again."  
  
"Bitch."  
  
"This is for your own good, and you know it. Although why I'm helping to curse that nice girl again, I don't know."  
  
"Because you love me, you silly sod."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
--  
  
The plane landed and taxied to the terminal. Two figures exiting the plane were still arguing amicably, one tall and thin, the other medium height. Both had dark hair and British accents, although the man was using off-colour words while the woman politely responded in impeccable english.   
  
He looked rumpled, too. And was currently fishing in his jacket pocket.  
  
"You won't find them."  
  
"Wot?"  
  
"I took the liberty of having a sprite remove them."  
  
"You bloody--"  
  
"Hush. They'll never let us through customs if you keep this up."  
  
"But I need me friggin' cigs, sis." He wheedled.  
  
"You can buy more--AFTER I've dropped you off."  
  
"You're no fun."  
  
--  
  
Customs passed them through without incident, only one raising an eyebrow at the man's bare legs. And she was practically drooling, too.  
  
"Didja see that?"  
  
"Yep. Brother dear, women *love* kilts. It's just something you'll have to get used to."  
  
"I don't fuckin' think so."  
  
--  
  
They caught a cab to the train station after picking up their luggage. The cabbie didn't look at all impressed when she told him to drive safely. Not that it mattered, he still tore through the streets and other traffic as if they were mere inconveniences.  
  
"So, you really think this'll work?"  
  
"If you remember to tell her what you told me, yes."  
  
"Right."  
  
--  
  
The conductor gave them odd looks, but didn't comment.  
  
"He was lookin' at me bum."  
  
"No he wasn't."  
  
"Yes he bloody well was!"  
  
"Okay. Fine. He was checking you out. Happy?"  
  
"No."  
  
--  
  
Another cab ride brought them to the gates.  
  
"Right. Thanks, driver. If you could just wait around?"  
  
"Ma'am, I'm..."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"All right."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"What'd you do to the poor bugger?"  
  
"You don't want to know."  
  
"You're right. I don't. Ouch. Bugger it all, do I *have* to do this?"  
  
"Do you have any pride left?"  
  
"..."  
  
"Then, yes."  
  
"..."  
  
"Come on. They won't bite."  
  
"Yes they will."  
  
The mansion they approached loomed appropriately. She knocked. The door was opened by a young man with blond hair.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi, is Katherine Pryde in?"  
  
"Ah think so. May Ah ask who's callin'?"  
  
"It's a surprise."  
  
*mumble* "It bloody well is."   
  
"All right, then. Wait here, please."  
  
Two seconds after he left the room, the woman started after him.  
  
"C'mon."  
  
"Romany!"  
  
"Don't sound so shocked. C'mon, he's almost getting away."  
  
"Bloody sisters. Should have them all taken out and shot, they should. Then drawn and quartered and burnt at the fuckin' stake."  
  
"Would you shut up?"  
  
They turned a corner, went up a set of stairs, turned another corner and froze. Ahead of them the young man was talking to a young woman. Her hair was a halo of chestnut brown, as if it was fighting to grow out of a horrible hair cut.   
  
"Gods..."  
  
"Stop drooling, brother. It's unbecomming."  
  
"She's as gorgeous now as--no, wait, she's more gorgeous."  
  
"*snort* Men."  
  
It was at that point that the two down the hall spotted them.  
  
"Ah, ma'am, Ah though Ah asked you if'n ya could wait..."  
  
He trailed off as the brunette stumbled past him to stare at the man.  
  
"'lo, Pryde."  
  
"Wisdom."  
  
"I think now is our cue to leave, young man, don't you?"  
  
The woman caught the kid's arm.  
  
"Er..."  
  
"I'm sure you're just dieing to show me the kitchen, right?"  
  
"Right this way, ma'am."  
  
--  
  
"You're wearing a kilt."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It... looks good on you." The words were almost forced out.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Are you... regimental?"  
  
"...None of your bloody business."  
  
"You are, aren't you."  
  
"Pryde, get your hand--Pryde!"  
  
"I was right."  
  
"Bloody woman."  
  
"Thank you. Why are you here?"  
  
"It's all Romany's fault."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"And, and.... I missed you."  
  
"Really? Funny, because I seem to remember you being the one to---mnmph."  
  
--  
  
"I'm glad you're regimental."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Makes it easier to reach you."  
  
"Oh. Oh! Pryde!"  
  
"I missed you too."  
  
--  
  
"So, this is the kitchen."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Nice stove."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Got anything to drink? Something tells me they'll be a while."  
  
"Soda?"  
  
"That works. Hey, ever had your palm read?"  
  
--  
  
"That was..."  
  
"Unexpected."  
  
"You could say that. Look, Pryde, I wanna apologise--"  
  
"Don't you dare, I enjoyed that, you bloody British git!"  
  
"Not for that, for... leaving you. For not givin' us a chance."  
  
"Oh. Well, then... I... guess this is my turn. I apologise, too. For letting myself think that you didn't care, that I wasn't good enough, that--"  
  
"You'll always be good enough for me."  
  
"Pete... I forgive you."  
  
"Ta, love."  
  
---  
finis 


End file.
